whining sounds

Whatever a person frequently thinks and reflects on, that will become the inclination of their mind.

--Buddha

During our recent New York trips, I've been on buses and trains a lot.  And I decided to pay attention; not that I don't do this at home, but in New York I can hear hundreds of conversations each day from all sorts of people.  

And one thing became clear. In this, the wealthiest city in the wealthiest country the world has ever known (and, my guess, will know), people whine.  Constantly.  Rare was the conversation, face-to-face or, more frequently, mobile-to-mobile, that said anything approximating: I'm fine!  Life is great!

To find that, I visited Rich on the neurosurgery floor.  There, despite looking like an audition call for a Frankenstein play, men and women (more men, don't know why) with staples in their heads and rips down their spine shuffled a loop or two around the corridor.  When complete, they said:  Great!  I'm doing well!

Not always, of course.  Some on the floor could barely raise their heads, and when they did couldn't say where they were.  But, still.  In any contest, their cheeriness trumped the folks on the bus.

What we think is -- we think -- the only reality.

Now that's a thought that depresses.

candace